


Oil Me Up, Rub Me Down

by Sid_Loves_Andy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Massage, Oil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2179068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sid_Loves_Andy/pseuds/Sid_Loves_Andy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kraglin helps his Captain relax with back massage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oil Me Up, Rub Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at: guardian-kink.livejournal.com
> 
> I really need to stop watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show before I go naming fics...

In the darkness of Yondu's chambers, the blood, the hurt, the  _loss_  can almost be forgotten...

The tension in Yondu's back is enough that his upper torso is pulled taut into the beginnings of a 'c-like' shape. His breath is harsh and fast, and he claws at the pillow beneath his head, fingernails ripping tiny lines in the delicate fabric. He's been like this for the last half-hour, tossing and turning, practically throwing Kraglin off the dingy mattress they affectionately deem a 'bed'. Sleep has not come as he thought it would, and this brings about a new anger and frustration. 

They won't talk about it, and that is okay. Kraglin doesn't need to vocalize his concern for Yondu to know that it is there, and Yondu doesn't need to express his desire to slit traitorous throats for Kraglin to gladly lend him his blade. They've lost six good men to cowardly turncoats, and betrayal doesn't sit well with the captain. He takes the deaths personally, feeling that the blood is on his hands. Kraglin wants to tell him otherwise, but cannot seem to force his mouth open.

Instead, his hand finds Yondu's shoulder, the dark blue skin bare and scarred. His fingers gently press down, finding a knot and lazily working it into submission. There is silence, then, "What the fuck you doing, boy?"

"Givin' you a massage." He answers simply. Yondu is silent, and Kraglin takes this as welcome. He treads carefully, however. Yondu is tense and on-edge, and the arrow is sitting not-so-innocently on the dingy wooden dresser. It seems to wink at him from it's perch. 

Yondu shifts almost imperceptibly, allowing Kraglin a better angle at his back. "You got that shit that dumb-ass on Xandar was sellin'? Some kinda fancy-shmancey muscle relaxin' oil..." he trails off, eyes following Kraglin's hand as it opens the drawer beside the bed and removes the aforementioned tube.

"Feelin' a little stiff, old man?" The first mate teases. He expects a quick-witted retort, or even a slap on the ass. 

Instead, Yondu carefully shifts beneath him, pain clearly evident on his face. "Not the good kinda stiff, if that's what ya mean."

The lid on the bottle comes off with a loud  _pop_ , and he drizzles the amber-colored liquid over Yondu's back. Tossing the bottle aside, he extends a finger and swirls it through the oil, spreading it in complicated patterns over Yondu's highly-sensitive skin. When he deems it warm enough, he wets his palms in the oil and digs them deep into the small of Yondu's back. Yondu's moan is distinctly sexual and satisfied, and Kraglin cannot help but grin in satisfaction.

"Good?" Kraglin asks. He knows it is, can already see the relief on Yondu's face. 

Kraglin's hands move up, fingers moving in soothing circles over the pronounced vertebrae that press taut against his skin. There is another moan, accompanied by a twitch of the hips, before Yondu nods. "Good... _yes_..."

Kraglin situates himself above Yondu, straddling his waist. Now with better leverage, he can slide his hands all the way from Yondu's waist to his shoulders, and from there, digs his palms into the shoulder blades. Then, a little gentler, he moves oil-slicked hands over the arches of his shoulders, down the defined muscles of his biceps, before applying firm, yet careful pressure on his triceps, attempting to work out every kink he stumbles upon.

"It ain't healthy." Kraglin announces suddenly. His elbow is now working on a particularly tight knot on the lower right side of Yondu's back. The now-warm oil - a mixture of organic sulfur, chamomile, and Valerian - is definitely lessening his pain.

"What ain't healthy?" Yondu asks. His words are slurred and he's half asleep, a sign of complete trust that Kraglin certainly doesn't take for granted.

There is a pause as Kraglin reconsiders what he is going to say, but then, "It ain't healthy, holdin' it all inside like you do. You ain't never gonna sleep if you keep tensin' up like this, and fallin' asleep at the wheel is only gonna get yer ass killed."

"Don't be gettin' all fluffy on me, you sweet-talkin' sonuvabitch. I got half a mind to think that that sorry bastard hit ya harder than we thought." He says.

Despite himself, Kraglin grins. He remembers the fate of _that_ particular 'sorry bastard'. His head throbs at the memory of the bit of metal piping that had come crashing over the crown of his head, of the blood that followed - both his and the 'sorry bastard's'. "You can't make this easy, can you?"

"Why should I?" Yondu laughs, and it is easy and light. It is free of the stress and tension that once filled his body. "Yer too easy to tease."

Kraglin opens his mouth to retort, but suddenly finds that Yondu has flipped over and he's sitting on the captain's heavily erect cock, a thin layer of cotton the only thing separating them. Yondu's fingers are pulling at his pants, pushing them down and off, and then there is the  _pop_ as the cap comes off of the massage oil again. The oil is spread liberally over his fingers, and then he's pulling Kraglin forward till their chest to chest, slipping his fingers behind Kraglin and pressing one against his entrance.

It slips in all-too-easily and Yondu teases, "A little over-excited, boy?"

Kraglin smirks, "Never."

He's able to insert two fingers right off the bat, and he scissors them sinfully slowly. Kraglin's biting down on his lower lip, his eyes half-lidded as he meets every one of Yondu's thrusts. The warming oil has Kraglin squirming, even as he feels himself relax as the natural muscle relaxers take effect. And then, a finger jabs at his prostate and he sees stars. Pleasure courses through him, white-hot and powerful, and a third finger easily slips inside him.

He barely has time to grab the headboard before the fingers are removed and replaced by something much longer and thicker. He moaned, and it is loud and obnoxious and he's sure that they can hear him in the next quarters, but he doesn't care. Yondu's fucking  _huge_ inside of him, and anyone that can take  _that_ and be silent deserves a fucking  _medal_. Not that Yondu has ever complained about Kraglin's vocalizations.

"It'll be a sad day in the galaxy when you come down with laryngitis." He says. He follows this with a particularly sharp thrust, his pelvis connecting with Kraglin's ass with a sharp  _smack_. His movements are fluid, smooth, and are filled with the wild abandon of one who hadn't just held all the tension of an over-stretched rubber band.

"F-Fuck you," and he hates that he couldn't even get out that gibe without stuttering.

 "Thought that was what I was doing." He returns, slamming his hips upward again. This time, the head of his cock brushes Kraglin's prostate. Kraglin moans and any thoughts of a comeback are immediately forgotten.

His thrusts are sharp and quick, the head of his cock connecting with his prostate every time now. With each thrust, Kraglin's body slid along Yondu's, his erection trapped between their stomachs. And then, with a shudder, Kraglin comes. His body clamps down around Yondu's cock, and a string of vibrant curses fall from the space pirate's mouth as he emptied deep inside of Kraglin. After a minute, he finishes, and pulls out carefully.

Kraglin crashes to the bed beside Yondu, suddenly ten times more exhausted than he had been originally and already drifting off before his back hit the mattress, when, "Kraglin?"

"Yeah?" And he's not really awake, feeling able to sleep now that Yondu isn't one massive ball of tension. 

"Thanks." And that was it. Kraglin says nothing, but both know that he has heard. And he rests a little easier knowing that Yondu finally got what he needed... even if he didn't know how to ask for it. 


End file.
